Lovers on the public benches
by ViviTheFolle
Summary: Inspired by a French song of Georges Brassens. A reporter is about to get the scoop of his life, but it might not be what he thinks it is...


"BOY-WHO-LIVED AND BRIGHTEST MUGGLEBORN WITCH: A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN"

No, no, much too long for the front page. There's no doubt that the article is going to make it there, celebrity gossip – and especially about these two celebrities – is always a gigantic hit; but nothing short of an Extension Charm could make both the title and the soon-to-be-taken picture fit, and the boss hates wasting money on enchanted paper.

He'll have to find something else.

"POTTER AND GRANGER'S ROMANTIC ESCAPADE"

No, no, too condescending! It's like the headline's been written by Professor McGonagall! The reporter immediately crosses the words and let the quill slurps back the ink into itself. These Inking Quills are one of the most beloved inventions of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and the greatest hit among students and writers alike. The bloke who created them – shop owner George Weasley said they weren't his idea – apparently got inspiration from a thing in the Muggle World, imagine that! The quill is enchanted so the ink drips into its tip while the person writes; the blackest the quill, the more ink is available; and the best function is its ability to recharge its ink by quite simply drinking it back, which doubles as a way to erase mistakes – an absolute treasure!

But the shopping section isn't his to fill, so instead, the reporter lifts his head and peers through his camouflage – an innocent-looking bush that offers an excellent view of that Muggle public bench – to make sure his scoop hasn't moved too much. They haven't.

Actually, it's even starting to bother him, he thinks as he crosses yet another idea – "LOVE BLOOMS BETWEEN OUR HEROES", much too sugary and _Witch Weekly_ -ish – because if he's going to take a picture, he'd much rather have the two heroes cuddled together, or even better, in the middle of a passionate French-kiss.

As it is, even their hair isn't moving – and with Granger's bountiful bushiness, and Potter's gravity-defying strands, it's an exploit – and worse, they don't look remotely in the mood for the chastest peck on the lips.

Yes, that's the most baffling part – the two heroes of the world, the paragons of wizardry, the most beloved couple of magical Britain – have gone together to get some peace and quiet, no doubt to enjoy a moment of intimacy far away from reporters – a little guilty feeling stabs at his conscience but he shrugs it off with practiced ease – and they're. Not. Snogging!

Which is completely ridiculous!

Granted, he's seventeen, barely out of Hogwarts, the only thing he knows about true love is what tabloids have told him, but he's pretty sure the "snogging in a broom closet for privacy" bit would normally apply in this case, even if the broom closet is a park somewhere in Muggle London.

But the two nineteen years old heroes are not moving an inch.

Granger has an utterly bored look on her face – what is this girl's problem, she's sitting with the _Boy-Who-Lived_ , doesn't she realize how many wizardfolk would gladly resort to murder to take her spot?! Her chin rests in her closed fist, which makes her face look sort of squashed – a very unappealing posture that's going to ruin his picture.

The Boy-Who-Lived isn't better; his eyes are vacant and staring off into space, as if he wants nothing more than grab a broom and fly away; his arms are crossed on his chest – a position that every photographer knows is the furthest thing from romance, making the subject look guarded and distant… What is wrong with these two?

"TROUBLE IN PARADISE?" Yeah, no, the boss asked for a _happy_ scandal, not a depressing one. But there's not going to be a lot of happiness to exploit from this. It's scary to consider, but there's probably more cheerfulness to be found in Azkaban than in the couple on the bench.

Ah, Granger moves, yes, there's a good girl – no, no, NO, bad girl, bad! She's crossed her legs! What's wrong with these people?! Oh, it wouldn't be too bad, if only she had crossed them _in Potter's direction_! Merlin's dead Pygmy Puff, and now she's turning her head away from Potter as well! All the body language of rejection – and Potter's turning his head away from Granger, too! What are they doing, don't they know they're meant to be – or that's what everyone in the wizarding world is saying anyway… Mordred's mouldy wand, Potter is _tapping his foot_! Rejection from Granger and impatience from Potter – what in blazes are they doing?!

Alright, maybe they've just had a little row and they're playing the silent game, waiting until the other apologizes. They'll throw little glances at each other, trying to gauge which one will cave in first. But soon they'll be shuffling their feet, playing with their hands, biting their lips, anxiously waiting for the apology that doesn't come. Then their eyes will meet. Then Granger will throw herself in Potter's arms and they'll share a passionate, snogging embrace and he'll be able to snap his picture and leave this bush! He's been forced to assume a squatting position to get the best angle and his thighs are _killing_ him!

Ah! Granger sighs. Good! Now all Potter has to do is nudge her or make a flirty comment or… or do nothing and just look around… Oh, oh, yes, he turns his head… he seems to tell Granger something… Granger turns to him… Yes, good, good… They're talking… He gets ready to take his picture…

It's weird, though, they don't seem to be professing their eternal love and adoration to each other. They look bored. Potter checks his watch, sighs, Granger asks something, Potter answers, and they turn away from each other.

It's so effing frustrating he's ready to throw his camera on the ground and stomp on it.

What is wrong with these two? Don't they know their luck? How it's obvious to everyone and their dog that they're going to get together? That's the rule. There's the Chosen One, the hero of their world, and the witch who excels at everything she does, a ready-made heroine. You can't get much more destined than that. They're meant to be. They bring out the best in each other… even though right now, the best they can bring out seems to be sullen faces and fiddling thumbs.

How is this even possible?!

Harry Potter! Hermione Granger! The two greatest names of the Wizarding World! And they're just sitting here on that bench and all they can do is look _bored out of their minds_?!

Seriously!

Alright, if a full-blown snog is too much to ask of the great heroes, he'll settle for a small kiss on the lips. Not even a very long one, one second will be enough for the camera to do its job.

The reporter casts another Eye-Opening Charm on his eyelids to be sure he's not going to miss anything significant but the heroes are depressingly immobile.

Why. Just… why?

He'll even take a peck on the cheek at this point. Just… anything. Please?

Please, heroes of the Wizarding World?

One small peck. That's not so hard to do, right? They just have to stop sitting at the corners of their bench – what are they even doing that far away from each other – then Granger has to reach up a little and give a nice little platonic kiss to Potter's cheek. He'll do the rest. He'll add some blush, he'll Transfigure a smile on the picture, but first, she has to kiss him.

Please. He's really starting to get sore in the legs. And in the arms as well. Who knew a simple camera could be this heavy?

He waits, and waits still.

He starts praying the gods of love to give some divine inspiration to his two unaware, reticent models.

…

Come on, one kiss. On the cheek, please, it it's not too much to ask.

…

Or a playful peck on the nose? How hard can kissing someone be, anyway?

…

He considers praying to the Wizarding Swahili Pantheon when his prayer seems to be answered.

At least, at last, the heroes _finally_ move.

Oh…

Oh!

They're smiling!

 _They_ _look at each other, smiling_!

Yes! Yes! Finally, there it is, his opportunity! His boss is going to wet himself with excitement!

He fumbles with his camera and discovers with horror that while he was busy praying, his arms have fallen asleep.

Merlin's… slightly… disproportionate… buttock, he thinks as he flails them about to retrieve the least amount of feeling in them.

There, there, his arms feel loaded with pricks and needles but his camera is working and the heroes are smiling brightly – they're not looking at each other but they look happy and that's all he needs – they're looking in the same direction, he'll just have to invent something for that, say there is a nice-looking fountain or something –

It's at that moment that a tall bloke wanders into the frame.

No you fool! Idiot! Bloody nitwit! Get out, get out get out get…

… huh?

Perhaps the reporter won't have to invent something for the two heroes to look at, after all.

Because it seems that the tall – and ginger – bloke is exactly what they were watching.

Potter and Granger are both beaming as the bloke walks up to them, and… and sits down on the bench.

Right in between the couple.

No, no, no! That won't do at all!

And why are they smiling so much?!

Oh, the bloke's brought ice creams with him. It _is_ pretty darn hot today, the reporter thinks as he realizes he's covered in a thin layer of sweat that makes his shirt feel like a wetter, uncomfortable second skin. Good on the tall bloke to make sure the heroes of Britain aren't getting heatstroke.

But there's no need to linger between the dream team of the Wizarding World! Shoo! Get out! Go back to wherever you came from, tall ginger bloke, your mission is accomplished; let the professionals invade celebrities' privacy in peace!

Damn it!

Tall Ginger Bloke passes Granger an ice cream – mint, from the looks of it – and gives Potter one that seems citrus-flavoured, still sat down right between the two of them – _and they let him!_ – and he starts licking a third ice cream, one he's probably bought for himself, chocolate, apparently…

What are they doing?

Why is Granger looking so happy all of a sudden?

Why is Potter smiling, shouldn't he be punching Tall Ginger Bloke for ruining his romantic rendezvous?

"NOT EVEN CELEBRITIES ARE SAFE FROM COCKBLOCKING" – too vulgar.

"POTTER AND GRANGER'S DATE RUINED BY MYSTERIOUS INDIVIDUAL!" – too Rita Skeeter-ish. He may be a journalist looking for a scandal, but even _he_ has standards.

Besides the "date" doesn't look very ruined anyway. Actually it seems to be going much better now that Tall Ginger Bloke is here.

What kind of sorcery is this?!

"CAN LOVE POTION BE MADE INTO ICE CREAM?" – Actually it can't, else it wouldn't be called a _potion_. Duh! Even firsties know that.

So what… the hell… is happening here?

The three of them, Tall Ginger Bloke, Granger and Potter, are silent as they lick and nibble their respective ice creams. But unlike the very tense, uncomfortable silence Granger and Potter have been sharing not two minutes earlier, this silence is much more relaxed: it's there in the slackened bodies, the small smiles and the quick, giddy looks the three of them are exchanging.

(Oh sure, only _now_ that there's somebody else with them are Granger and Potter looking at each other.)

As if they heard his thought and wanted him to explode, Potter and Granger both share a secret, promising glance that has the reporter's pulse quicken.

Here it comes… here it is… Snog incoming…

Who knew, maybe they needed Tall Ginger Bloke's ice creams to get it on, after all it's true that an empty stomach will make even the best, kindest person on earth into a grumpy arse –

His mouth drops.

(His camera drops also.)

The reporter can hardly believe what he sees.

Potter and Granger's secret glance doesn't turn into a heated snog.

The teasing smirk they shared with one another doesn't become a naughty kiss.

No, it becomes something else entirely as the two heroes raise their heads up, and like sharing one body, they both close in on the Tall Ginger Bloke like predators pouncing on their prey…

And at the same time, together in sync, they each plant a kiss on his two freckled cheeks right when he's about to take another lick of ice cream.

Tall Ginger Bloke immediately stops in his tracks, cheeks suddenly flushing pink (and his ears too), tongue halfway through his lips, and draws himself up as the two heroes look at him with mischief in their eyes.

And he smiles.

A brilliant, beaming smile, that looks even brighter because of the way his cheeks have reddened, and he drops his head to tenderly kiss Granger's lips.

Right in front of Potter.

Potter who doesn't seem like he's about to throttle Tall Ginger Bloke at all.

Potter who just rolls his eyes and tugs at Tall Ginger Bloke's sleeve like a child asking for a toy.

Tall Ginger Bloke lifts his head up, smiles at Potter, and… smears a bit of his ice cream on the Boy-Who-Lived's nose.

Potter blinks owlishly behind his glasses, smirks, and tries to lick off the little glop of cream from his own nose while Granger and Tall Ginger Bloke laugh.

Then Tall Ginger Bloke gives a fond smile, leans in, and licks the tip of Potter's nose for him, before leaning in again to kiss Potter just as gently as he kissed Granger earlier.

Granger doesn't look like she's going to cry or shout or hex both their bollocks off.

Instead, she's returned to her ice cream, smiling softly to herself.

The reporter can't help but notice that she abandoned the bench's corner, just so she could be closer to Tall Ginger Bloke.

(Meanwhile Potter kisses him the way a man drinks water after a trek of seven weeks in the desert.)

Finally, Tall Ginger Bloke breaks the kiss… he finishes his ice cream so fast it almost looks like he's swallowed it whole… and then, out of the blue, he says something, something the reporter in the bushes can't hear, but something apparently very funny because Granger and Potter both erupt in gales of laughter.

And there it is. This, this is the photo he wanted to take. Only a little different.

Granger's head is thrown back, brown bushy curls flying everywhere as she clutches her ice cream in one hand and protects it from her hair with the other. As she laughs, dimples appear around her cheeks and her eyes. In her enthusiasm, her feet have risen off the ground and she's now sitting on her haunches. Her stern and serious composure is completely gone; she's a teenage girl having the time of her life, happy and carefree.

Potter is bending over his ice cream as he laughs open-mouthed, glasses astray and his legs spread apart as if he were riding an imaginary broom; he slowly seems to regain control, takes a breath, and cackles even louder when his glasses begin sliding down his nose, and he fumbles with one hand to put them back in place. He doesn't look like the great hero who defeated the Dark Lord; he is just a boy with messy hair enjoying himself among friends.

And smack dab in the middle, between what the world wants to be lovers, is this tall ginger bloke who's looking at his friends with elation in his eyes, like there's nowhere else he'd rather be; he's laughing so loud, and his grin is wider than a mile; he's radiating joy and love, and he's so… so… _alive_ , there's no other word, he's so alive that should the reporter take the picture now, nobody would even give a second glance to the two heroes at his sides.

Just… how?

Who is this bloke? Who is he, to be loved by both Potter and Granger? Who is he, to be able to love both Potter and Granger equally from the depths of his heart?

Because it's so obvious he loves them, how he's gobbled down his own ice cream in the blink of an eye just so he could put both his arms around his two friends' shoulders; how he nuzzles Granger's temple with his long freckled nose as his big hand plays with the hair at the nape of Potter's neck, how he drops sweet kisses on the top of their heads as they playfully nudge him; how, once both of them have finished their own treat, they cuddle up to him to bask together in the sun.

In the safety of his bush, the reporter remembers dimly that there are indeed three war heroes, that the Golden Couple has been known as the Golden Trio, and that in his quest for the perfect friends-to-lovers story, he's missed the most important one: Ronald Weasley, the ginger-haired bloke who's now being tickled relentlessly by both his friends – no, his lovers; and they're all laughing hysterically like little kids who don't have a care in the world, oblivious to anyone else, where no one can harm them. They're free, happy, and in love.

The reporter snaps a picture.

Then, carefully, in his notebook, he notes the title of his future article. It's not going to make the headline, because it's not juicy gossip at all; his boss is probably going to lecture him about too much happiness and not enough scandal; but he doesn't really care, to be honest. He just feels like he's learned a lesson. A lesson in love and life, and the least he can do is share it with the rest of the Wizarding World.

"GOLDEN TRIO, A FRIENDSHIP AS STRONG AS EVER"


End file.
